Shades of Gray
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: set after "The Transformation" – missing scenes. hints of Bolivia
1. Peter & Walter

**FRINGE**

**Shades of Gray**

_No in FRiNGEment intended._

_Note: set after "The Transformation" – missing scene.  
_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Peter Bishop motioned at the bartender for a refill and glanced at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

When exactly did his hairline start receding that bad, he thought, running impatiently his hand in his untamed hair. He gave another critical stare to his appearance; sure those jeans still work, and the sweater, and the stubble but did he have to be stuck to keeping the scruff? The general idea was that it looked cool, and that the rugged look comes off with girls and on top of all bad reasons, he was not ready to grow up just yet.

Only he wasn't attracted to girls anymore but to women, --to one woman. He sighed and gulped his glass down, and turned around to face the population of the crowded room. He spotted rapidly the usual suspects. Business men trying to put back the inevitable return home to a comfortable life they never pictured for themselves, the lonely middle aged women, the ones with extra weight and a thing for Prince Charming, and the motley crew of shabby party goers in their early thirties eagerness for a one night stand adventure written all over their faces. Where did he fit in?

He was going to ask the bartender for another shot when a pretty brunette smiled in his direction with an appreciative waving of the eyebrow. After the last couple of weeks, that was all he needed, a little appreciation and mindless sex with no morning after. He smiled back and made his way towards the other end of the bar.

He stopped in his tracks when his pocket started vibrating with insistence, and gestured at the girl to be patient. He checked his cell. MADHOUSE incoming call, he read.

"Hey," he said, his eyes locked on his prize.

"Peter? Is that you?"

"Walter, you know it's me, you're calling my cell. Would you ever stop with that nonsense, please? I know you can use a phone, you can drop the act now."

"Peter, I did something wrong. Well not wrong per se, but something bad, I might confess."

"And it's supposed to come as a shock Walter? Please by all means indulge me Walter."

"Yes, yes," uttered Walter before going silent.

Peter sighed and his chin sank to his chest. Time to go back to the babysitting routine he was so desperately trying to get away from by drowning himself in booze and hazy encounters.

"Why are you still at the lab instead of back at the hotel in your pyjamas?" Peter asked patiently but obviously riled by the conversation. "You should be popping that one-serving casserole we bought together inside the microwave right now. You told me you'll take a cab back, remember?"

"I know, I know son, and I'm very happy with the Russ Meyer DVDs you rented for me and with your assortment of candy bars, but…"

"I have no time for this now, Walter, I'm in some sort of… a negotiation right now."

"Oh, I see! Is she pretty son? I guess she's not as pretty as agent Dunham though."

"Walter!"

"Sorry, I do not want to intrude son," he said apologetically.

"But somehow, you definitely do."

"I need your help."

"Why am I not surprised? What is it this time?" Peter turned around to the girl and shrugged. She smiled again and mouthed something he did not catch. "You spilled Gene's milk and need a mop?" he said briskly, "or you lost your coat again? It's on the hanger Walter, right beside the lab door."

"Peter, I did it again."

"What Walter, what could you have possibly done again since I left you," he checked his watch, "one hour and thirteen minutes ago?"

"I put her in the tank. She came back and she asked me. I put her in the tank again."

"What? She asked you? Olivia went back in the tank. Why, --why would you do that Walter? Where is she now?" asked Peter, already rushing to the door.

"That's the problem son, she's in her office and she won't talk to me. I'm afraid she might catch a cold… or something."

"I'm on my way Walter, stay put okay?"

And he started to run.

-o-

Peter barged inside the lab out of breath and sweating despite the freezing cold. He immediately saw Walter who was seated perfectly still on a wooden chair before Olivia's office door. In the dim light, he looked pale and weary, and when Peter came closer, he noticed that his face was not only pasty but also disenchanted.

He raised his head and looked at his son, and mumbled something, quickly shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was back to his somehow exuberant self.

"Peter, I'm so glad you came. How did you know?"

Peter decided not to acknowledge his remark and patted him on the shoulder, slightly leaning over.

"Tell me what happened."

"I was about to read Gene her bedtime story when agent Dunham came back."

"She did?" Peter crouched down besides Walter and waited.

"At first I thought she was looking for you. But it appears she was not."

Peter sighed in an attempt to keep his temper in check. There was no use at rushing Walter.

"And then I feared that she should be angry at me because of the antidote."

"Okay."

"I was afraid that…"

"You were afraid that she'd asked you to help her get back into the tank, right?" he said in a very gentle voice.

"Yes," Walter answered briskly. "Yes, yes. You've seen her brain waves son," he said in a very matter-of-fact fashion. "So you know."

"Yes I know. They are almost back to normal."

"You know what it means," he trailed.

"That her mind is almost free of John's memories," confirmed Peter with a concerned nod. "What you're saying is that she did not want to."

"Yes," Walter said forcefully.

"She needed closure."

"Yes," the old man sighed.

"So you helped her."

"You must understand son. I had to." He sounded desperate.

"I know."

In retrospect, with his mind still in shreds, that was something he never should have done alone. Peter felt that he had not only failed him but failed Olivia. He hugged him and Walter's tears made their way to his own cheek. He chose to look away, trying to see Olivia through the glass panels and through the shades, wrapped in a towel and prostrated on the couch.

"Did she say anything?"

"I think that she said things to John Scott."

"Whatever," said Peter, unable to bear the sting. He let go of his father to stand up. "Did she speak since you retrieved her from the tank?"

"No. She… I called you."

"That's okay Walter, you did good. Now do me a favour please. Go back to the hotel. I'll take care of Olivia."

"And Gene?"

"I'll take care of everything." I hope, he thought.

"Thank you son."

Walter got up from the chair and unbuttoned his white lab coat. He was staring at Peter, frozen in front of the door to the office.

"She needs you," he said.

Peter glanced briefly, and shrugged. "Go home Walter. And don't wait up for me. I might have to sleep at the lab."

A warm smile spread on the wrinkled face of the elder Bishop whose eyes were watering again.

"Is this home son?"

"Yes it is Walter," Peter answered with a tentative smile and he opened the door.

Walter nodded and scurried away.

-o-

_Not my best but I needed to get it out of my chest. _

_What do you think?_


	2. Peter & Olivia

**FRINGE**

**Shades of Gray – chapter 2**

_No in FRiNGEment intended._

_Note: that's not what I intended with my one shot Peter/Walter scene… but anyway, "due to popular demand", here you go. I'm not so happy with the result, but that's the best I can come up with for now ;)_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Olivia slammed the door behind her and sat on the couch, cuddling childishly in her towel. She was still damp from her quick shower and anxious to escape Walter's sudden outburst of fatherly concern. She put her naked feet on the cushions and bracing her legs with her arms, rested her head on her knees, rocking slightly. Walter would not dare trespassing inside the sanctuary of her office.

Walter was roaming inside the lab, pacing and pausing, directing a silent concerto, distress written on his face. Even from a distance, she could see his lips moving. He was probably mumbling ideas to himself like mantras in order to calm down. She should not have imposed this additional responsibility upon him. Technically he was apt to the task but far from it from an emotional point of view. As much as she tried though, she felt no remorse, she just felt like an empty shell.

Hidden in the comforting darkness, she peered through the glass panels and waited for the agitated flow of her thoughts to return to normal so that she could begin to process everything that just happened in her last drug-induced altered state. Which were John's genuine memories, and which were the ones she created to fulfil her wish for proper closure, --she'd never know, and she wasn't even sure she wanted to.

John was gone.

This overwhelming notion that John was a traitor had blinded her all along. Despite his alleged duplicity, she had never stopped loving him, thus embracing a life of denial. The car chase and his questionable death, this all thing was her doing, how was she supposed to live with that? It would be a long road to regain some peace and she was not ready to take that road just yet. At the moment, she wanted to get lost in the turmoil of her feelings, cherish her last stolen moments with John and believe that he was worthy of her trust. Given time, memories will eventually fade, good or bad.

Her conversation with Rachel a couple of days ago only made matters worse and she regretted every second of it. She always was the secretive one, the one with intimacy issues. That she blurted out the whole engagement ring story and the rest of her affair with her partner, it was unlike her. After keeping it to herself for so long, she should not have yielded to the need of being pitied even if she was craving for compassion. That was probably that need that had driven her to desperately clutch to Peter and let him hold on to her.

Was it?

She was not fooled by his guarded attitude any longer. His concern and worried looks had not escaped her scrutiny and she felt that there was more to it than simple colleague empathy. Apparently it had not escaped Walter either.

No more than she was fooled by the little voice which would not keep quiet in the back of her head. There was no way she could indulge herself in another fling. It would be easy to put the past behind and fill that place in her heart that felt so lonely, only it was a bad idea. It had been when she had fallen for John, and it would be wrong with Peter. She could not deny that there was something in Peter that she was attracted to, and she was no more immune than Rachel to his mixture of boyish charm, continuous bravado, sparkling wit and genuine charm but his intelligence was his best asset in Olivia's top five list of the-things-you-like-more-about-Peter.

He was so different than the image she had attempted to stick him with in Iraq, when she was the knight in shiny armour and decided that he was flawed. She had not a clue whom she was dealing with then and did not even bother to offer him the benefit of the doubt. Now that she barely fathomed his persona, she was aware she hardly scratched the surface, and was having a hard time reconciling with her former prejudices. He had proven that he was worth the attention every step of the way, no matter how hard she tried to push him away.

She tucked on the towel to wrap it closely about herself and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the lab had gone completely dark and she spotted Walter's silhouette standing guard on a chair before the door to her office.

She gazed at his perfectly still shadow and eventually dozed off.

-o-

"Hi, Liv…"

"John?" She straightens up with bated breath, unable to relate to the current situation. "Where are you?" She hears muffled footsteps and he stops three feet from her. She can hear him breathe.

"It's me. Peter," he says softly.

She lets a sigh escape her mouth and her frail body shudders under stress when she starts to recall the events of the evening. "Peter…"

"Walter is gone. I sent him back to the hotel."

_Facts, stick to the facts Olivia._ "Okay," she trails, perfectly still now, her nostrils flaring. "Why are you back to the lab? I told your father I wanted to be left alone."

Her voice is cold and distant. She closes her eyes and tries to block the raging headache. She knows Peter won't go away unless she makes him. Tilting her head in defiance, she shoots an angry stare in his direction but he's closer that she thinks and she recoils. Her head jerks violently and she moans unwillingly when pain shatters her determination.

He does not flinch, his face totally expressionless.

"Would you go please?" She nods, averting his gaze.

"What you need is coffee, --and probably something to eat."

"Can you go away? Can you just go away?"

"But first thing first." He puts his coat on her shoulders and she's surprised that she lets him. "You don't want to catch pneumonia and blame it on Walter, do you?"

"Can you go away?" She's begging now.

He turns around and leaves the room. She relaxes back on the couch, her head is pounding and her shoulders are aching because of the restraint she's imposing on herself. The coat smells like Peter. She wants to be in his arms, to feel his warmth, to be back to being alive but somehow she's still stuck in the tank with John.

_John__ is dead. _

She takes a deep breath. She doesn't want to transform into the damsel in distress Peter is attempting to turn her into. _He's not doing anything, he's just trying to help and be a friend and you know it. Get a grip on yourself for god's sake. _She swings her legs off the couch and presses her feet on the cold tiles. Peter is right. She's going to catch a cold. _As long as you don't make an encounter of the worst kind and turn into a freak show_...

Peter is back with a tray. Coffee in paper cups, and donuts. An apple. A bowl of mixed salad and plastic utensils. His face lights up when he sees she's smiling but he keeps it to himself. He sits the tray on her desk and looks around.

"You don't happen to remember where you put your clothes do you? Don't bother I'll get you a robe."

And he's gone again and she wishes he stays put long enough for her to muster the courage to thank him for coming back to the lab and simply being here for her. He helps her with the robe and she feels the cold on her naked breast but he's not watching. He helps her with the robe then kneels in front of her to put grey double-knit woollen socks on her feet.

"They are Walter's," he apologizes. "He's got some extra pairs at the lab in his locker. He's a sucker for those socks. He says they help him cogitate."

"In this particular occurrence, I think it's unlikely that he needs them at all," she finally says, her upper lip twitching, her nose wrinkled in her usual cute way.

"I have to refute your statement here," he says in the deadpan delivery she's accustomed to. But his body contradicts his face.

His hands are restless and he stands up briskly, making her dizzy when she tries to keep her eyes locked on his. She likes it that he's keeping a straight face to debate about socks. She can see that he's relieved.

"That's not the point," he says, sitting on a chair opposite the couch. "If Walter thinks the socks help him, they do help him hence he needs them. It's the same working hypothesis as the not-changing-your-underwear axiom. When you're on a winning streak, you don't change your underwear because you respect the streak."

"I see it as a predicament."

"It depends which way you flip the coin."

"You're in a metaphorical mood."

"I'd say it works."

He's smiling now and she smiles back. "Yes, it does."

"Are you okay?" he finally asks, venturing in known territory.

She nods again. She's afraid she might cry but she has no tears left.

"Peter, I saw his body at Massive Dynamic. John, … --his body, they… they keep it there, in a transparent tank. Broyles told me that Nina Sharp helps the Bureau with their investigation."

"You don't believe him?"

"No, it doesn't make sense. They kept him in a state of suspended animation to retrieve information because they need living tissues to perform their task. But Sharp told me they failed. So why do they keep him… now?"

"So much for closure…"

"Yup."

She stands up, and her lean body seems to float in the bathrobe. She clasps her hands together, takes a deep breath, changes her mind and grabs the coffee. "Thanks for that. I'm going to get dressed." She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear and gestures to the locker room.

"Okay. I'm not going anywhere." He's on the chair, his hands flat on his thigh.

She's staring. "Now that you mention it, do you have plans for tonight?"

"I'm way ahead of you Dunham. I started drinking…" he checks his watch, "two hours ago."

"Well, it seems like I have some catching up to do then. I'll be right back."

"I'll be waiting."

-o-

_Well? Any comment?_


	3. Olivia & Rachel

**FRINGE**

**Shades of Gray – chapter 3**

_No in FRiNGEment intended._

_Note: okay, now that you put the idea in my head that I should continue, I can't stop. So, here it is, a third short chapter. Olivia/Rachel_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The cab pulled over but Olivia kept glaring absently at the street ahead through the windshield. Finally acknowledging that the car had stopped, she glanced to the stairs and to her door and sheepishly back to Peter, her thoughts fogged by alcohol. He was gazing at her and being serious, not exactly what she needed most at the moment.

"I had a lovely evening Peter," she said reluctant to make a move that he could misinterpret.

"Yes, it was nice. Come on, I'll see you to your door Liv," he said, and with a gentle nudge signalling her to get off the cab.

"You sure?" her eyes crossed the cab driver's eyes and she blushed in the dark. "Okay," she nodded and opened the car door.

They walked slowly to her apartment. She followed the railing with a light hand, observing him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at his feet and watching his steps. She stopped at the top of the stairs and searched her bag for her keys.

"So… I'll see you tomorrow I guess," he said with a smile when she was done.

"Yes, thank you."

"No sweat, I can still walk you to your door, I'm wasted but I'm not that wasted you know."

She smiled back. "I know. Tomorrow then."

He brushed her hand with his and turned around abruptly. He jogged down the stairs and she watched his cab drive off. She went in and leaned on the door for a minute, with her left hand still on the doorknob and the other flat on the wood. Rachel had let a side lamp on. She threw her bag on the console near the door. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror above, rubbed her face with both hands and sighed, half expecting John to show up behind her shoulder from the shadows.

"Hi Liv."

She gasped and faced her sister. "Rach? Why are you up? You weren't waiting for me, were you?"

"Dream on sis!" Rachel laughed. "I was just trying to find the optimal dosage that will put me back to sleep. Ella had a bad dream," she shrugged. She took a deep breath. "I was in the kitchen and I heard Peter's voice. So, what is it about, round two of your I-have-no-intention-of-having-a-handsome-man-inside-my-lonely-home-after-midnight routine?"

"Rach! He's just a colleague!"

"So you say. What has it got to do with anything?" she said, her voice rising dangerously. She glanced upstairs and continued. "If he's _just-Peter_, --and Liv, I hate to tell you but you seem to be the one with the problem since you insist on repeatedly calling him "just" that, there's no rule that says you cannot invite him in for a last night cap especially if you don't have any agenda or hidden motive. That's what we grown-ups do. And I know you like him," she pushed, "and he obviously likes you, and Liv… he's a guy. He's not going to wait forever. And John died. "

Olivia stared blandly and made a show at untying her hair and appearing unconcerned. Rachel apparently had time to give Peter some thought. And she was interested.

"Unless you want to make me think that you're envisioning some Harry met Sally nonsense…" Rachel smirked.

"No, I am not!" Olivia protested with a grin while heading to the kitchen with Rachel in her wake. She opened a cupboard.

"Because if you are Liv, you're on for a long ride," Rachel stated matter-of-factly sipping on her drink. "You shouldn't take for granted that your life has been written off because of John… I'm sure there's much more left in store for you. And Liv? Seize the day, blah blah blah, that kind of stuff, you know, it works if you give it a chance. Life can surprise you..."

Yes, life is surprising, Olivia thought, mulling over her latest out of body experience and her evening with Peter. "What's your poison?" she asked. She could not make out what was most surreal, talking to a dead man or getting close to someone she knew nothing about. To be perfectly honest, she did not seem to know anything about John either. Logic dictates that she was merely trying to fill in the blanks and make him the good guy despite all evidence against it.

"A lot of gin, but with a twist."

"I'll stick to whiskey then."

She poured the liquid in a large glass and stayed silent for a while, nursing her drink. "I should not have told you about my relationship with John. It was a mistake."

"Why?"

_You can__ count on Rachel to go right to the point. She never lets you down. _

"It was. That's all you have to know."

"I'm your sister!" she pushed.

"Exactly."

"And?"

"And nothing. Try to get some sleep. I'm gonna take Jack Daniel to my room and hit the sack."

"Don't get your hopes up. I doubt that he will lay you down and ravish you."

"Rach," she grinned again, fighting against confusing flashes of John and Peter intertwined faces.

"At least, wear your best Victoria's Secret lingerie just in case firemen would show up when Ella sets your house on fire."

"Night Rach."

"Night Liv. Sweet dreams."

-o-

Once in her room, she felt wide awake and began to feel guilty about Peter. He did not have a second thought and rushed up to her side to help her and still, she was unable to open up to him. Sure, they drank –a lot, and they had a great time together tonight but she knew she was keeping her guard up every single minute she was with him. She went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, comb her hair. It looked wilder that her usual do since she had not had the time to use a hairdryer and a brush after her tank stint. It gave her a fierce look and for the first time in weeks she liked her reflection.

Was it the Peter effect Rach was so adamant about?

She sat on her bed, mesmerized by the clock on her bedside table. She should call him and apologize. Three a.m. that was not an unusual hour in their book. Her mouth twitched. Yes, it was perfect timing indeed. She was alone in her bedroom, with her sister and her tot in the next room swooning about her colleague. That was proof enough hat she was trying too hard to exonerate John.

She took a sip of her drink and reached out to her phone. Now that Rachel put that insidious seed in her head, calling him was the only way to get rid of the little voice that was growing insistent in her head.

-o-

_Next some Peter and Walter talk…_


	4. Walter & Peter

**FRINGE**

**Shades of Gray – chapter 4**

_No in FRiNGEment intended._

_Note: back to Walter and Peter. I think there's still one chapter left after this one. I hope you like it ;) thanks for your feedback, it's always highly appreciated._

-o-

A hail storm was coming, and it made the high elm trees that faced the building shudder and bend, and thrash against the windows with every squall, their shadows hiding the outside city lights with each bust of wind and tracing fantastic patterns on the walls.

Walter was standing still in the dim-lit impersonal hotel room he shared with Peter. He was only two feet away from him now. Typically, his piercing gaze should have awoken his son but Peter was too far gone inside his alcohol induced nightmare to even sense his presence. His dream kept him shivering and tossing in his bed, moaning and groaning, entangled in the sheets.

Walter shuffled closer and crouched swiftly near the couch. He reached out to his son's hand, but changed his mind at the very last second and jerked back. He sat down instead, pressing his hands flat on his lap, his eyes locked on the tip of his feet. He moved his big toe and his foot, hidden by the shapeless grey woollen sock, transformed into the comforting friend he's relied upon during those years he was locked in at Sainte Claire's. He toyed for a while with the improvised company, drawing inspiration from their silent exchange. He took a deep breath and his eyes went back to his son's face. In spite of the hard time Peter is having in his sleep, he seems well, he thought. When he was asleep, it was easier for Walter to recognize the child in Peter, good-looking round, lively, prone to pranks and with a cheerful temper.

He came closer, his nose almost touching his son's nose, feeling his breath against his face, when Peter bucked and almost hit him. He moved back briskly and held his breath. Peter turned around and started snoring. Walter sighed, watched his feet but his companion was gone and he sighed again. He could not wait till morning to learn why Peter was back at the hotel when it was only right he should be with this lovely FBI agent he was so smitten about. No wonder he had to drink to bear with the rejection. An obnoxious vibration interrupted his train of thoughts and he preyed on the cell phone and switched it off.

"Walter?" rasped Peter.

"Peter? Are you awake?" said Walter.

He tossed the cell away on the clothes piled up on the floor and crossed his hands back on his lap with a sheepish smile.

"Mmm…" Peter's eyelids fluttered and he put his arm defensively in front of his eyes.

"You are sleeping at the hotel," said the elder Bishop evenly.

"Thanks again Walter for stating the obvious. What do you want? Can't it wait until tomorrow?" Peter protested, tucking on his sheet and only succeeding in uncovering his feet. He sighed deeply and sat on the bed, his hair dishevelled and his face puffed from insufficient sleep. "And what are you doing sitting on the floor? When did you get this close to my bed?"

"Son, I was worried."

"Sure you were. What is it about this time?" he swung his feet to the floor and stood up, stepping over Walter's spread legs, went to the bathroom and switched on the lamp, his hand over his eyes to shed them from the light. He bent back in the doorway and shouted.

"Banana crumble or liquorice biscuits? Oh let me think… you need a new pair of suspenders."

"Peter, you know that I don't use suspenders. They are for old people."

"Of course they are. So, what is it then?" said Peter, who seemed ready to pop up the tablet he had retrieved from the cabinet. "I know you would not wake me up deliberately would you?"

He grabbed a bottle on the table, sniffed it and was going to wash down the pill with a slug of questionable beer when Walter spoke up.

"You told me you would sleep at the lab."

"Yes I did. And I was sorely mistaken," Peter smirked.

"I understand." Walter gazed at Peter, slightly shuffling on his socks, "Peter, --I think it is time that we have the talk."

"The talk?"

"Peter…" Walter winced. "You know. The TALK…"

"Oh, the talk? No Walter, thanks, I don't want to have the talk, not tonight. You should go back to bed now."

He placed his hand on Walter's elbow and gently nudged him back to his room. Walter resisted and finally turned around and faced him.

"Is agent Dunham well?"

"If you must know, and I'm not sure you must, Olivia had too much to drink and she's probably passed out… --I guess."

"Oh, interesting…" Walter tilted his head with a puzzled stare outside the window. "Is she in a comatose state?"

Peter sighed with exasperation. "Of course not! She's merely asleep and she will be nursing the master of all hangovers tomorrow."

"You do know where she is, don't you son?"

"Of course I know where she is Walter. What I meant is that I drove her home a while ago."

"Oh, oh, oh, this is a mistake Peter," said Walter who swirled back to Peter's room with an alarmed face. "You should have stayed with her Peter. She shouldn't be left alone, especially tonight."

"Calm down Walter. She's fine."

"No she's not. Her mind…" Walter stopped and turned to Peter, "… I'm unsure of the outcome of her last connection."

Peter smiled wearily. "And what is it supposed to mean, that I'm in charge of fixing your mistakes?"

"She didn't want to sleep at the lab?"

"Curiously, Walter, I never asked."

"You should have," said Walter adamantly. "At least, did you mention that you two could have rented a room in this very hotel?"

"I'm afraid I didn't mention that either Walter."

"And she did not invite you in for… a last drink. That is how it is called, yes?"

"Yes it is and no she didn't."

"That's bad, that's really bad." Walter wriggled out of Peter's grip and started pacing the room with a dancing spring in his step. "I thought you were good with women Peter. I'm very disappointed in you. She was very sad because of agent Scott." He was waving an accusing forefinger in Peter's face.

"I know Walter. She…" Peter's heart fluttered.

"… told you? I'm afraid he's gone, you know, agent Scott? Her brain patterns were…"

"Yes, Walter, you told me already. We'll get back to this conversation tomorrow. I'm not up to the challenge right now. Olivia is safe at her place and fast asleep. Come. Back to bed. I'll tuck you in."

"I'd prefer to be tucked in by Asteroid. Could you call her?"

"I bet you would. No Walter, I'm not going to call anybody, now be a sport and go to sleep."

"Peter, would you like to try my new supplement?" Walter insisted. "It would help you sleep properly."

"No thanks Walter, I'll pass, maybe next time," said Peter pulling up the sheet on Walter. "Thanks anyway," he patted the blanket and left.

"Peter?" called Walter.

Peter did not turn around, he stopped and waited. "Yes Walter."

"Good night son. Don't worry, agent Dunham is going to be fine."

"Good night Walter," he nodded with a smile but it was lost to Walter.

He swallowed his aspirin with a gulp of tepid beer, sat the empty bottle on the table, slumped down on his bed and dropped his head in his hands.

What if he called Olivia to make sure she was okay. It was not even three thirty, their time-slot of choice. He searched for his phone in the dark but eventually gave up when he could not find it. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it was not such a great idea but only Walter's idiosyncrasies rubbing off on him. He lied down and closed his eyes lulling himself to sleep to the rattles of trees and hiss of hail.

-o-

_What do you think? One more to go…._


	5. at the lab

**FRINGE**

**Shades of Gray – chapter 5**

_No in FRiNGEment intended._

_Note: final chapter. Thanks for your continuing support. I hope this helps bear with the upcoming infamous winter break…._

-o-

Astrid turned the last curve to the Fringe Division restricted parking lot on the Harvard campus and immediately spotted Olivia's black shiny SUV parked in front the building. She checked her wrist watch. It was not even seven and no one text messaged her to inform her about any new development or any new case. She pulled on the brakes, padlocked her bicycle to the gates and retrieved her backpack. She started to jog to the entrance, her brow furrowed. She kept running, her petite silhouette projecting giant shadows on the walls. Her steps echoed in the deserted hallways and she finally reached the Kresge building and the lab door. It was unlocked.

She entered cautiously.

"Agent Dunham? Olivia?"

Her voice sounded hollow inside the lab. The familiar buzzing and humming of electronic devices and computers welcomed her but Olivia was nowhere to be seen. She switched on the lights and the lab was flowed with a bright metallic neon wave and Gene mooed in appreciation.

Olivia's office was in the dark. Astrid tossed her bag on her bench and trotted up to the catwalk and peered through the blinds. Olivia was asleep on the couch. That was odd. She knew for a fact that Olivia usually went to her office downtown first thing in the morning for the first debrief and to coordinate the daily roster with agent Francis. Astrid prayed that she had not run into more troubles with agent Harris. The guy had a strong reputation of being a serious pain in the ass and a total nuisance and he had made no mystery than he was after agent Dunham. Or maybe she just needed a breather after the last events. She decided to let her have her sleep and went to milk Gene instead, --which was the beginning of her morning routine.

Back to the lab, she put the kettle on. She was a tea addict and she kept a collection of every herbal tea known to mankind in her cabinet at the lab. She spent so much time in here that it was a lot easier. She usually had two cups before the Bishops show. She only brewed a large pot of coffee later on, generally around eight just before they checked in for the day. Walter was a coffee addict himself and Peter seemed to follow the same path.

She was reviewing the results from the day before when she noted a discrepancy in the sheets. She went to check on another computer to make sure it was not a glitch. No, it was not. Someone had been in the tank again yesterday evening between five forty two and seven twelve. That was weird. She compared the sheets and was on the verge of printing a whole set of data when she noticed a bundle of documents in Walter's handwriting.

That was the missing report, along with the transcript of Olivia's last trip to dreamland in another attempt to reconnect with her dead partner. And it was very, very personal. She placed the documents in a folder, marked it and shoved it inside Walter's desk drawer. Why on earth would Olivia go back in when she perfectly knew the dangers of the procedure? Obviously it was not case related so why the urgency and on top of it why the secrecy? She would have to clear this up with the elder Bishop later in the day when they'll be alone. They had forged a pretty solid bond over the months and she was confident that he would open up to her.

She mentally braced herself for a confrontation with her superior officer and decided she had to wake her before the Bishops got to the lab and that their world turned upside down once again because of a giant lizard or another case of Dr Strangelove. She pushed the door open but it resisted. She ducked and picked up a pair of grey woollen socks that were in the way. She discarded them on the desk and went near the couch. Yes, Olivia was definitely asleep. She wrinkled her nose when she noticed her alcoholic breath. Something was wrong. That was not like Olivia to get hammered and crash at the lab instead of her place. She gave her a gentle nudge. Olivia winced and turned around.

"Peter?"

Okay. That was far worse that her first assessment of the situation. It had nothing to do with the Broyles or Sanford Harris' of this world. Whatever had happened last night with baby Bishop or on the contrary what didn't happen was the key to Olivia sleeping in her clothes at the lab. She was not close enough to Olivia Dunham to have a girl talk so she just nudged her again.

"It's me, agent Farnsworth, Astrid, your assistant."

"Astrid. Yes Astrid, I might have dozed," Olivia said in a hoarse voice. She moaned and put her hands to her head. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight. The Bishops will be here any minute now."

Olivia nodded and retched. She stood up uneasily and walked to the door.

"Let me get you an aspirine and a coffee."

"Yes, thanks, I'll have a shower first. Thanks Astrid. Oh my… I think, I-I, I think I'm going to be sick..."

Astrid watched her leave the room, her face pasty, her arms folded on her stomach. Then she heard Olivia heaving over the bowl. She shrugged and went back to the kitchen to prep Mr Coffee.

She was interrupted by the sound of a vocal exchange. It was just another day at the office but this morning already looked like a journey at the zoo. She checked the door to the bathroom and went to meet the boys. Walter was especially cheerful and he was making sure that everybody in the building could benefit from his latest idea.

"… and then, I posited that if you derive the ion flux you can induce a matching result in the other room."

"And what would exactly be the use of such a device Walter?"

"At the moment, I have no idea. But I think it's brilliant. Hello-hello Astroid," he chirped, "it this not the most glorious day?"

"Good morning to you too Walter."

"Walter. Astrid. Her name is Astrid."

"I know who she is. She is my assistant. The best," he smiled fondly.

Peter rolled his eyes and smiled to Astrid. "Morning Astrid. What's up, you look worried."

Astrid shook her head slightly and goggled in Walter's direction mouthing a silent 'no'. Peter nodded back and came closer. He took her by the elbow and turning his back to his father, he asked in a very soft voice, his eyes never leaving his father who was on his way to paying Gene his morning respects.

"What's going on?"

"Olivia spent the night at the lab."

"No. I drove her home last night. I'm pretty sure she didn't."

"She was here before I arrived and she was asleep on the couch in her office," Astrid explained with a shrug. "She's been drinking."

"I know. I was with her."

"Oh, I see… so it makes it… acceptable?"

"It's not like we drink on a daily basis," he protested. "She was depressed, I held her hand and we had some harmless fun. It's not like we're gonna crash a AA meeting anytime soon."

"Whatever," said Astrid, "it's not my place to judge you. But you must know that she drove herself here and she was disoriented when I woke her up. She must have passed out on her couch. That's bad enough in my book."

"I'll talk to her. Is she in her office?"

"No, she's having a shower. She was sick."

"Olivia's sick? I did not pay attention enough. She probably drank a lot more than I can recall. I had quite a few drinks myself."

Astrid nodded again, I-don't-want-to-know written on her face.

"Yes she's sick and she's not… well."

"Agent Dunham is sick?" said Walter in their back.

They swiftly turned around and faced him.

"Agent Dunham is unwell?" he insisted. "Peter," he turned to his son, his face serious, "were you safe? Is agent Dunham expecting your child?"

"Oh my god Walter, stay out of it would you. You're babbling like an idiot."

"Don't worry Walter, Olivia is alright," said Astrid. "Would you like a cup of coffee? I just milked Gene."

It was not enough to distract Walter from his obsessive crusade.

"Having a child is a big responsibility Peter."

"And you of all people must know," snarled Peter, gritting his teeth. "Olivia is not pregnant. And if she is, she's not pregnant with my child."

"Peter, you can talk to me," said Walter.

"Drop it Walter. I don't need your permission to sleep with Olivia. You have no bearing on my sex life, as a matter of fact, you don't have any bearing on my life and you never had."

Walter's face changed colour. His eyes locked on something behind Peter and he looked appalled. Peter turned around to look at the reason of his change of mood. Olivia was standing sentry by the locker room. She moved quickly into her office with her face hidden in her white bathrobe and swung back the door forcefully.

"Look who's babbling now," Astrid sighed.

Peter looked daggers at Walter and jogged to Olivia's office. He rapped on the door and got in, gently closing the door behind him. Olivia had her back to the door. Her hair was damp. She was wearing the same robe he had found her into the evening before. Déjà vu.

"Olivia…"

She did not respond and tilted her head, her hands clasping the robe lapels.

"We didn't get a chance to finish our conversation yesterday," he said softly.

"What conversation was that? I'm only hoping I didn't confide in you," she snapped. "Obviously, you're not fitted to keep a secret."

"A secret? Olivia, we had a few drinks, I drove you safely back home, I had no idea it was a secret."

"I trusted you and all you can say is _I don't need your permission to sleep with Olivia_," she quoted, facing him. "These are your words. Classy remark. And it's only eight, I can't even begin to imagine what is it that you're going to come up with before noon but it's going to be difficult to remotely top that."

"I was being an ass. I was mad at Walter, it's not important. What's important is you. You've been sick?"

"What do you care? I'm not pregnant with YOUR child. Would leave now?"

"Liv…"

"You know what? I thought I actually was that close to being "that girl" yesterday."

"That girl?"

"The girl who needs too many drinks to say what's on her mind but who feels not even brazen enough to let alcohol courage speak."

"Olivia, I…"

"The one who sleeps with the wrong guy because he plays the piano and does card tricks and makes her laugh and because she's lonely and had too much to drink and maybe, maybe for this one time, it would have been the right thing to do."

"Could you at least let me expl…"

"You ruined it. I want you to leave. Now."

Peter took a deep breath, leaned over her shoulder. "For what it's worth, I care and I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. He left the room and grabbed his coat, his car keys and slammed the lab door shut behind him.

"What just happened?" asked Walter mesmerized by the scene.

"Nothing. It gets better," said Astrid.

"Oh… good. So I take it agent Dunham is not pregnant, yes?"

"I suppose not. Here is your coffee."

"Thank you my dear." He swallowed a large gulp and smiled. "Did I tell you that I once invented a coffee maker…"

"Yes you did."

"Astrid, you think he'll be back… Peter?"

"Of course Walter, it's only lovers' tiff."

"Good, good. Let's get some work done, shall we Astragal?"

-o-

_I'm not sure that you like this ending better that the first one ;)_

_Please review!!_


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